“You should know better than to place your trust so blithely. Which is the very reason I have offered to take over your financial obligations. It is such a stress on a woman without a husband to guide her.”
He kept talking. Every word beat at her mind until her thoughts became a jumble of his words mixed with memories. Theo’s long journey. His sincerity. The plague that preyed upon his mind that she had suffered with him that afternoon. Their kiss. Martin’s letters. His suspicions about Uncle Ross. . .
She weighed it all against what her uncle was posing as truth and realized she believed Theo and Martin more than she did Uncle Ross.
“. . .it would be my honor, Ellie, to be near you.”
Hadn’t she seen the coldness in his eyes? Sensed that beneath the warm exterior he could put on and take off at will, there lurked a dark side? It had been what kept her from yielding to his desire to go inside and have the conversation. She feared him.
Shielding the runaways could get her into trouble, sure, but after tonight she would let Martha know of the danger and another route would be chosen for a period of time.
Her decision made, she stiffened her spine and raised her chin. “I don’t need your help, Uncle Ross. My decision is final.”
thirty-one
Uncle Ross took a threatening step forward, and Ellie raised her hands against whatever ill he had in mind.
“You can’t talk to me like that, you little tramp. How long has that Rebel trash been hounding you? Wooing you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at him.” He grabbed her upper arms in a vise grip.
She cried out and began thrashing to break his hold.
“Let her go, Ross.”
His hands left her arms and he spun.
Rose stood there, the black eye of the shotgun an extension of her arm.
Ross snarled and leaped off the porch. In seconds he untied the horse and worked him into a gallop before leaping into the saddle.
Ellie’s knees buckled and smacked the hard boards of the porch.
Rose knelt beside her, drawing her cold hands into her own. “Can you stand?”
At first Ellie didn’t think she could—the enormity of what she’d just done, the decision she had made, and the heat of Ross’s rage drained her of all strength.
“I heard everything, Ellie. I reasoned that he had been badgering you about this for a long time.”
She gave a weak nod.
“Just watching his expressions gave me chills, and I knew if it came down to it, I would have to help.”
Ellie sighed and reached for her friend. “Thank you, Rose. Now”—she forced a smile—“help me up.”
Rose stared at a point beyond Ellie then down at her. “Stay right where you are. I think your hero has arrived. A little late, maybe, but. . .”
Ellie blinked, not understanding until she heard the creak and jangle of a wagon. Theo. “I am not going to let him see me—” She gripped the post to pull herself upward, chagrined at the weakness in her legs. Within seconds she heard footsteps echo on the porch then felt strong hands lifting her from behind.
She was turned in the circle of Theo’s arms, and his hand rose to cup the back of her head. “Ellie?”
With a deep sigh, she leaned into him. Maybe Rose was right after all. She inhaled the scent of him, closed her eyes, and let his strength be hers.
❧
Theo had been terrified to see her on her knees, instinctively knowing this was not a casual position to share a chat with Rose. Not out in the cold air.
Over Ellie’s head, he swept Rose’s form to reassure himself she was unhurt, a jolt tripping his heart when he caught sight of the gun she held, partially covered by the gingham of her skirts.
Rose caught the direction of his gaze and lifted it with a little laugh. “Her uncle got demanding. He needed some encouragement when Ellie invited him to leave.”
Theo couldn’t help a grin. So much for his idea that Rose was a dainty little woman who wouldn’t think of harming anyone. The delicate weight in his arms redirected his attention. He bent his head and whispered in Ellie’s ear, “Let’s get inside.”
Rose led the way for them. She set the gun down and put a kettle on.
Ellie pulled from his embrace and took a seat at the small table with a deep sigh.
“I’m going to check on Colin,” Rose said. “I’ll be back.”
Theo watched Rose leave, a gust of wind blowing in from the open doorway as she slipped outside. He slid down into the seat across from Ellie.
A bit of color had flushed back into her cheeks, and she smoothed a hand over her breezed-mussed hair.
“Feeling better?” He chafed at the simple question when all he really wanted to do was gather her close and bury his face in her blond curls.
“He got so angry, Theo. He tried to tell me you had shot Martin, that you were telling me the lies.” She lowered her hands from her hair and ran a hand over the smooth surface of the table. “But I knew it couldn’t be true. Martin wouldn’t lie to me.” She searched his face. “And I knew you wouldn’t lie to me either.”
He gave her a brief smile that did nothing to express the warmth that he felt in that moment. She trusted him. He would hold that trust close and cherish it always.
Silence grew between them.
He raised his arm and reached across the table. She met his hand and held it firmly in her own. “I thank you for your faith in me, ma’am.”
“He knows about what I do.”
Fear gripped Theo hard. “Can we change the plans?”
“It’s too late now. But if he’s watching me. . .” She pulled in a breath. “It might be best for you to go alone this time.”
He nodded. “I’ll do what I can to help.”
She dropped her eyes, and when she lifted her face, tears glistened there. “Is now a good time to tell you I think I’m falling in love with you?”
Theo absorbed her words like dry ground soaked in rain, but he couldn’t help but tease. “You think?”
She gave him a nervous little laugh. He wouldn’t release his hold on her gaze and watched the effects of the moment trace a path of red hot heat up her neck and into her cheeks.
The kettle began to sputter, prelude to a full whistle, and neither of them moved to tend to it.
She brushed her thumb across the tender place on the back of his hand where the thumb and index finger met. The gentle gesture alone expressed more to him than her words.
A knock on the door sounded, and Rose let herself in with a rush of skirts and cold air. “It’s really going to be cold tonight.” She took off her outerwear and hung it by the door. The kettle gave vent to a full whistle.
Theo sent a wink at Ellie and pulled his hand away. “I think I’ll go unload some of the wood into the barn. I could use some cold air.”
Rose turned from the stove, kettle in hand, her gaze bouncing between the two of them, a knowing smile on her lips.
thirty-two
Theo made the trip to Martha’s alone. Martha greeted him with the same glint in her eyes that made him wary. “I’ll not have you set foot in this house at this hour. If you want me to look at that finger, you hug into that shirt and wait. I doubt a big man like you will freeze to death.”
Theo didn’t have a chance to reply before she shut the door in his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he mocked. “I’ll surely do just that.” He collapsed in the chair on the porch and wondered, again, at how eight runaways expected to fit into the tiny cavern under the false floor of the wagon.
Martha reappeared with a lantern, her features devoid of emotion. He held out his hand and she began. With two snips of the scissors, she cut away the bandage and examined the injury. “You’ve been working too much. The swelling will not go down if you continue to use the hand.”
He wasn’t sure if she expected an answer or not, so he chose to remain silent.
She went back inside, and he examined the broken joint, wondering how he could make repai
rs for Ellie and rest his hand. He heaved a breath and sat back in the chair, hunching his shoulders against the cold air. He would be a block of ice by the time he reached the farm.
Martha returned with a mortar and pestle, the familiar paste of a poultice within. She lifted her face to where the moon shone down on the town. “It is warmer tonight,” she mumbled. He almost laughed out loud. “I was thinking how cold it was.”
Martha settled herself into the chair opposite him and set the poultice on a low table that separated them. “It is cold because you are used to heat.”
Her words jolted him. Yet when he caught her gaze, her expression revealed nothing. He wondered if Ellie had told Martha he was a Rebel deserter. Or maybe the woman knew by intuition; she seemed the type to be able to figure out such things.
When she finished wrapping his finger back up, she gave him a silent nod and picked up the lantern.
Knowing he was being dismissed, Theo returned to the wagon and pulled himself onto the seat. When Libby started out, he thought he could feel her straining more than normal against the harness, until momentum relieved her of some of the work.
It seemed to take forever to get down the street, turn, and reach the outskirts of town, where the fields and rolling hills dotted with trees rolled south toward Baltimore. He did his best to remain alert and the cold helped. He laughed now at Martha’s easy comment, sure the woman didn’t care one bit who he was, only that he had a heart to help.
As he pulled onto the lane leading to the barn, he realized that he couldn’t remember any of the last twenty minutes of the journey. A strange feeling of lost time. Shaking himself, he set the brake and got down.
The silence of the night was broken by the whinny of a horse. He stared at Libby but knew it hadn’t come from her. Alert now, Theo watched Libby. She turned her head, nostrils flared just as a lone rider cantered up the lane. Before Theo could move away from the wagon to put himself between the wagon and rider, he saw the flash of something in the rider’s hand.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. A pulse of pain and a slow burn that increased in intensity made him cup his shoulder. His hand felt wetness. His mind worked to catch up as the rider flew to the ground.
The pain grew in intensity, and Theo never understood how he came to be on the ground, but he saw a face over him, backlit by moonlight, though the silver hair seemed familiar somehow.
❧
Theo jerked awake, the face of Captain Ross Bradington flooding his mind and bringing everything into sharp focus. The sway of the wagon let him know they were going somewhere. He tried to sit up, but several pieces of wood pinned him down. Theo flexed against the logs and grunted at the pain that radiated along his chest, up his neck, and down his arm. He panted, trying to catch a breath that didn’t add to the pain, but every inhalation became tortuous. His head throbbed and his stomach heaved. Darkness tinged the edges of his world, and he closed his eyes to rest.
In seconds, he was alert again. The runaways! Ross was driving the wagon full of runaways. He sucked in air as best he could and braced himself against a log. It fell away, but three others blocked his ability to move.
The jostling of the wagon made his movements awkward. When the next log rolled against the side of the wagon, he could move his arms and see the back of Ross’s head, but his feet were stuck beneath another log. He sat up to free his feet of the log that lay diagonally from his left thigh to his right ankle, when the wagon jolted to a stop. Theo caught sight of Ross and the cold eye of the gun aimed at his chest.
“Don’t move or I’ll kill you. Might kill you anyhow with all the lies you’ve spread.”
Beside Ross sat a black man, but before Theo could process the man’s appearance, Ross spit another threat.
“I’m taking this property you’re hauling back south.” His grin went ugly. “I imagine someone down there would give me a nice sum for your return as well. Then they can finish you off for me.”
Theo’s mind clutched for some way to divert Ross’s attention. For one second, he gazed into the dark eyes of the black man beside Ross before that one turned away. With Ross’s revelation of Theo’s loyalty to the South, he knew the black man would be hesitant to help. He clenched his hands and realized the log that captured his feet could be used as a weapon. It wouldn’t be easy to lift. Ross’s gun could kill him faster than he could free the log.
Ross turned to the black man. “You get down there and pile those logs on him until he can’t move an inch. When you’re done, I’ll check your work.” His tone took on a snarl. “That way if you don’t do a good job, you can stay up here in the North. Six feet under.”
The black man climbed down from the wagon and circled to the back and out of Theo’s line of vision. He felt the wagon lurch and knew the man had climbed up into the wagon bed. Theo watched as the black man crouched beside him, his face in profile to Ross. In that time, he pressed his hand against Theo’s shoulder, though he never once glanced at him. Theo tried to interpret the man’s gesture, cautious hope bringing a surge of strength. When the black man straightened, he hefted the log that had blocked Theo’s legs and gouged a toe into Theo’s side.
Theo saw the thrust of the big man’s arms and heard Ross’s cry of pain. Theo leaped to his feet and saw Ross holding his arm, his hand empty of the gun. Theo dove, the wagon seat catching him in his upper thighs, but his weight caught Ross off guard and sheer momentum threw them over the side and to the ground.
Theo’s back hit first. He immediately pushed out as Ross’s body came hurling toward him. A thrust with his hands and legs and Ross went sailing off to his right. Theo went to his side and kicked hard, landing a blow along Ross’s thigh. The older man groaned and writhed.
Theo rolled to his feet and stood above the man. “Get up.”
Ross glared up at him. His booted foot shot out to catch Theo behind the knees, but Theo expected such a tactic and flopped his full weight onto Ross’s chest, knocking the wind from the man’s lungs. Theo pulled back enough to land a blow on Ross’s cheek, and the older man’s gaze went unfocused. Ross put a hand to the ground, spent, sticky warmth pumping down his shoulder.
A rustle of movement beside him made him tense and turn. The black man stood there, holding the gun. He pointed the gun at Theo then at Ross. “Going north, mister. I ain’t going back south again.”
Theo raised his hands, grimacing at the pain the effort caused him. He gave a sharp exhale. “I’ll take you there, but you’re going to have to trust me. I’ll need you to keep an eye on him.”
The black man didn’t answer but slowly, gradually, he pointed the gun away from Theo and straight down at Ross. “You bleedin’ bad, mister.”
“That’s why I’ll need your help.”
“I’ll keep the gun,” the black man said.
Theo nodded, finding the man’s reasoning agreeable. He knelt beside the still-dazed Ross and dragged him upward, holding his arms. His waning strength sent waves of nausea stirring in his gut. Theo stopped at the edge of the wagon bed. The black man had circled the wagon and moved in on the other side, blocking any attempt Ross might have at escape. Grateful for the support, Theo nudged Ross forward and waited to make sure he was going to listen before he retreated a few steps.
A roar sounded in his ears, and his hand went to his shoulder. He blinked to clear his vision and focused on the wagon seat. With great effort, he placed one foot in front of the other, knowing his strength was seeping away with every beat of his heart. He saw the wagon move but saw no one in the wagon seat. His gaze shifted to the black man, sitting in the bed of the wagon, the gun still trained on Ross.
“You drive.” The black man’s words penetrated the haze growing in Theo’s head.
He grasped the side of the seat and placed his foot on the step. He flexed to pull himself into the wagon and gasped at the waves of pain as he sat. With slow movements, he lifted the reins, grateful now for the cool air. He tucked his chin to stare down at his shirt. A
wide stain of blood had soaked a circle around the entire wound. He swayed on the seat. Or maybe that was the rocking of the wagon? He couldn’t make sense of it all, and when he closed his eyes, he had no strength to open them again.
thirty-three
Ellie startled awake. A dream. Only a dream. But vestiges of it lingered like the unseen strands of a cobweb, unnoticeable until one walks through it.
Ellie pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the side. A mild gray glow let her know the sun had not yet risen. She brushed her hand down her long braid, trying to understand what had so startled her. A certainty. Something she needed to know.
She felt each strand of the woven braid as she replayed the confrontation on the porch. Something he had said. . . It eluded her.
Frustration gave her energy, and she attacked the unbraiding and brushing of her hair swiftly. All the while trying to understand what it was she was missing. It had been after his smooth words, when her firm no had ignited his temper and struck fear along her spine.
“You can’t talk to me like that, you little tramp.”
She’d been so shocked at the change in him. The baseness of his assessment of her character.
“How long has that Rebel trash been hounding you?”
Ellie gasped. Rebel trash! He knew!
Her breathing came in little gasps as she hurried to finish dressing. That was what her subconscious had been trying to warn her of. If Uncle Ross knew Theo was a Rebel, he might try to go after him. Coupled with the fact that she had revealed Theo’s memory of Ross shooting Martin, her uncle might find it necessary to dispense with any risk that might get him in trouble with his superiors. Meaning Theo.
Breath squeezed from her in a little moan. She dashed to the barn, urgency driving her movements, her hem collecting the morning’s dew as she ran. She saddled the gray as fast as she could, mounted, and snapped her crop against the horse’s flanks.
Promise of Time Page 14
